They knew each other distantly, and then discovered that they were neighbors. This opened up the opportunity for the occasional visit, which gradually grew more comfortable and frequent. They both had work, so often these visits would equate to no more than him bringing over his laptop and working beside her while she studied. Her office doubled as a guest room, so often this was done with both of them sprawled out on the spare bed.

It was quiet and serene, and soon he found himself drifting off into a doze. He opened his eyes with a start to discover that she too had curled up beside him to rest. Their bodies weren’t touching, but this was a technicality of mere inches.He gazed at her form beside him realizing that he had never really taken the time to appreciate it before. Her curves and skin were luminous, and he was shocked to see that she had a tattoo. He wondered what else was hidden in her depths and was struck with an impulse to explore her.

He hesitantly reached over and traced his finger down her arm, following a trail down her ribs, hips and thigh. It seemed he heard the softest of sighs escape her and was she suddenly a few millimeters closer to him? His hand grazed the back of her knee and it seemed that her back arched slightly, thrusting her pelvis even closer to him. His hands moved back up her leg, his thumb gently massaging the inside of her thigh.

Was she actually asleep? Her mouth opened slightly, but her breathing was still even. He wondered what form his caresses took in her dreams. Was he inside her head, or was some other man touching her? Still, she didn’t gasp awake in shock, slapping him for his presumption, so emboldened, he continued.

Perhaps this was a violation of trust. Perhaps this would be the end of their visits. But it seemed that she was tempting him. Teasing him with her body and her skin and her accessibility. He was prepared to deal with the consequences of his actions, no matter what form they took once she awoke.

A scant inch of skin was showing between her tank top and shorts. A tantalizing glimpse of her stomach just begging to be touched and licked. He grazed a tickling stroke before slipping his hand beneath her shirt. It was merely her abdomen – nothing that couldn’t be seen in public, but the fact that his hand was under her clothing, uninvited was so much more arousing…

He took a deep breath and lowered his hand. Beneath the waistband of her shorts. Slipping into her panties to touch her hot wet pussy. His other hand reached into his own pants to grip his straining cock. He could hear her breathing increase and knew that she was no longer asleep – though her eyes had yet to open. With this implicit permission, he no longer aimed for any kind of subtlety. He slipped fingers into her cunt and began to rub her clit.<

Without warning her tongue was in his mouth, and her hand was unzipping his pants. “Fuck me. Now.”It was not a request.

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He told me he wanted to fuck me. He asked what would happen if the second we met he found the urge to bend me over and pound it into me.I was fine with that. I was fine with anything he wanted to do with me.

I know you’re supposed to meet somewhere neutral first – get to know each other. But I was OK with the idea of fucking him the day we met. The moment we met.

I envisioned greeting him with my tongue in his mouth and my hand down his pants. Sliding my body slowly down his to unbutton his pants and suck on his cock. I wanted him to drag me back up by the hair, slam me against the wall and thrust into me before we’d even taken our jackets off.

His place. Mine. I didn’t care.

But when would that day come?

First I was to go to his place – later at night after his child was asleep. But he got sick, and I was delayed, so we postponed it.

Then we were to meet last weekend, go to a Sex Show, have a couple drinks and then I would do my Duchessy best to get his clothes off. In the car. At a nearby hotel. I didn’t care where.

Then this weekend, he saw my facebook plea asking for a favour. He offered to pick me up and take me. A five minute favour that would inevitably lead to me bringing him back to my place and worshiping his cock.

I wanted it. I dreamed of it. I was driven to distraction by it.But when would that day come? He failed to call yesterday, which technically would be his third strike.

I didn’t care. Though a part of me knows that he’s a player, who cares when all I want to do is fuck him? It’s a fine line. A player he may be, with a dirty streak as well – but also with delicate sensibilities.

He doesn’t know what to do with a naughty text message telling him what I’m doing to myself at that moment. He’s told me that he’s rejected women that he’s deemed too “dirty.” So telling him that he doesn’t need to lie and play games, just come over and get naked seems a bit too bawdy for his tastes.

His last chance is this Wednesday. Today by the time this posts.By an odd serendipitous congruence of events, I happen to be staying at a hotel that night. He has one opportunity to present himself before I find myself a new victim.

He told me would be leaving soon – a better opportunity had been offered to him, one he would be foolish to turn down.

I could feel my heart stop and my loins grow cold. All that time fantasizing only to find that within days, the object of my desire would become no more than a distant memory.

It was all I could do to keep myself from stomping my feet in a childish display of devastation. Suddenly I realized how ridiculous it was to live life so cautiously. Why had I never at least tried to glean some sense of interest or attraction from him? Why did I insist on living in my head?

I feared that he would be gone when I returned from the holidays, so concluded that there would be no other opportunity to let my feelings, however wanton they may be, be known.

On the last day before everything shut down I went to his office. The receptionist had decorated the area in an attempt to be festive. In the dim glow of the twinkling fairy lights I made him my offer. Not with words, but with actions.

He had greeted me cordially, looking slightly puzzled at my unexpected appearance in his doorway. I imagine I may have looked a little feverish and even crazed – so concerned was I that I might never see him again. I glanced behind me and shut the door. No need to put on a show for anyone who may still be lingering.

I presented myself to him as if to a king or god. An offering of a (somewhat tainted) sacrificial virgin – a trinket meant to divert, and hopefully please him at his whim and then be tossed aside.

I saw the shift in his eyes and stance as he grasped what was being placed before him. No longer was he the sweet, cordial co-worker. He had transformed into the beast.

He ordered me onto my knees in front of him – and of course there is no where in the world that I wanted to be more. He gently pulled my hair back and out of the way, then gave it an abrupt yank – further inflaming my passion. I could feel my hot juices pouring out of my throbbing cunt simply from that one gesture.

I undid his belt and zipper and tore down his pants and boxers – raking my nails down his thighs as I did so. His grip tightened on my hair and he let out a gasp. Then I took his cock in my mouth and sucked and licked as if it were my only nourishment in a sea of starvation.

I licked down his long hard shaft and drowned in his musky odor. Simply having permission to offer such ministrations was intoxicating.

I gripped the back of his legs and he arched his back against his desk. I could have gone on for hours, sucking his balls, teasing his cock’s head with quick little flicks of my tongue, fucking him with my mouth…

Suddenly he yanked my head up by the hair and slammed me against the wall.

What bliss. As if he were reading my thoughts.

He ordered me to take off all my clothes before thrusting his tongue in my mouth. I quickly shed everything I was wearing and took off his remaining clothes for good measure.

He was all over me. One had yanking my hair back so hard my back arched. His mouth and teeth on my nipples, sucking and biting. And the other hand? It reached down between my legs – his thumb rubbing my clit, with a few fingers reaching inside to fuck me.

He drew back and took his cock in his hand – then slapped my dripping cunt with it – sending spasms throughout my entire body. He rubbed it back and forth across my slit as I moaned and shamelessly begged him to fuck me. Now. I could barely see straight – all I knew was what he was doing to my body.

He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he plunged into me. He carried me over to his desk and lay me atop his books and papers – my legs still around him as the thrust into me. He fucked me hard and fast the way I needed it. Our moans and grunts were no longer subtle – there would be no disguising what was going on if anyone was outside the door.

But all I could see from the crack below the door was the soft flicker of the twinkling lights…

One of the best parts of being romantic, sentient beings is the fact that we have the option to choose what turns us on.

Each one of us gets aroused by different things, be they exotic fetishes, or simply by viewing a naked object.

This very fact means that all of us should have the option to find someone in life who finds us irresistible. There should always be something about us that someone in this world will respond to.

The harder challenge is finding and connecting with that person. Once you’ve covered that – well then what’s stopping you from then living out your existence in a delicious state of sublime bliss?

I’m what you might call “curvy.” And I’ve had my share of men who love women with a bit more substance to them. This is fine, I can appreciate a man who wants to worship every delectable part of me.

I, personally, don’t have a specific body type that I must adhere to in order to get turned on. I can get aroused by a “curvy” man, or a slim one, or a super fit, cut one. It’s more cerebral for me. The brain really is the most powerful erogenous zone.

But there is one part of a man that will turn me on within a millisecond. I don’t know why it is, but just the sight of it gets me hot. All the men in the photos have this in common.

What is it? Let’s see…They’re all topless.

Is it the pecs? The arms?Nope.

The bellybutton?Nope.

Washboard abs?Nope.

It’s that curvy indent leading down beyond their pelvic bone. I have no idea what it’s actually called. You know what I’m talking about? That line that leads down into their pants.

Just a glimpse of that curve. That indented line. Gets me wet. I can be thinking of nothing…taxes or groceries…yet if I catch sight of that curve, I can guarantee you that ALL I’m thinking about now, is sex. And getting that guy naked and violating me in any way he wants.

Just a glimmer of that curve can turn me into his slave. Thoughtless and willing. Agreeable to anything.

What IS it called?I don’t know. But I want it. And any cock attached to it.

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